


Crucible

by PitaEnigma



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy, Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitaEnigma/pseuds/PitaEnigma
Summary: A geth assassin/ambassador, a krogan warlord, a Cerberus operative, and an N7 commando are all shunted to a strange world by the explosion of the Crucible. Can they survive their new circumstances, and each other?





	1. Prologue 0

This was a good death, Mar decided.

Grall had died first. A praetorian. Picked him up with one spike, impaled him on another, and _pulled_. He would have been impressed were it not his krantt being ripped apart. The rest of clan Jorgal died as well, around him. A great line being extinguished was tragic, but in combat?

He coughed up blood, trying to laugh. You had to laugh. The Citadel above them had long since stopped firing its beam. Whatever Shepard what doing, it seemed to be working. At least they would be killed by collector forces, and not by a Reaper’s plasma. It always seemed like cheating, to him, using guns. He never liked it.

His hammer lay next to him. A warlord should never be unarmed.

Should never…

Unarmed. Like the Scion that did him in. It should have known better than to try to lift a Krogan. Its arm lay on the asphalt. So did most of its organs.

Humans. Paved over decent earth, creating roads. Why not just build better vehicles? A mako can climb over mountains, with the right driver.

His mind was going, he realized. It was blood loss.

Should have noticed that grenade. Scions… grenade wielding pieces of shit. His own grenade belt was long empty. He grabbed the handle of his hammer. A warrior should not die without his weapon.

He coughed again, looking up at the Citadel in the sky. It was beautiful from this angle. He should have destroyed it during the rebellions.

It started to glow. It was still beautiful. The light filled the sky.

He would wake up somewhere else.

 

* * *

 

The husks didn’t stop coming. It was ridiculous.

You fight people, eventually they realize they will die. All were the same in that. Asari would leave you alone, Salarians and Turians would try to kill you from a distance, and Krogans laugh and run in anyway. But they react.

Husks just climbed over their dead and tried to get at him. And his whips obliterated them. His arms were getting tired, and they just wouldn’t stop.

He released a singularity, taking the momentary lull to look back.

The Alliance forces behind him had collapsed. Where there previously stood a tank, surrounded by soldiers, was a Banshee and a pile of glowing metal.

He screamed in anger, and charged.

It had no effect. The banshee seemed to regard him, somewhat quizzically, then grabbed him.

The sky above him began to glow. Both him and the banshee looked up.

He found himself in a dark street, in a different city.

 

* * *

 

"Fire in the hole!” Kara screamed, throwing another grenade into the horde.

This was great. It was her and her squad against a group of enemy… things. She wasn’t quite sure what they were, but they exploded beautifully. And they released a horde of small things, which also exploded beautifully.

Grenades were beautiful.

Jerry was kneeling next to her, quietly kneeling and picking out targets. He was so boring… You’d think someone in a cape, with a sword, shooting laser beams out of his hand, would be a fun person to be around. But he took himself so seriously.

That was probably why he was team leader and she wasn’t.

Because she was having the time of her life. London had fallen, sure. They were in a suicide mission doomed to fail and reliant on someone she had never met. They were going to die.

But she had more grenades and missiles than anyone would know what to do with. And her rifle?

What a work of art. Cerberus were monsters, and everything they did failed. Except for the Harrier. Talk about improving a classic. 

So if she had to go, she was going in style. And style was throwing grenades like there was no tomorrow, and allowing her suit’s systems fire rockets indiscriminately – it wasn’t like the allied line was anywhere near them.

The enemy line was, though. A Brute. She hated those. Nothing should be able to take a grenade and keep moving like it doesn’t matter. But the #1 rule of shooting still applied: Aim for the head. After throwing a grenade of course.

While she fired at the brute, someone on the other side seemed to have the same idea. Jerry had lost his head. It seemed to be in multiple places. Some of it got on her.

No time to worry about that, though. She threw another grenade. Inside the electric field, the monster finally got her point, and fell to the ground.

She didn’t even notice when the flash of light from the sky consumed her.

When she came to her senses, it was raining. And she was in a completely different place.

 

* * *

 

The Geth looked down its scope. Inwardly, their runtimes were completing calculations, computing wind speed, planetary rotation, obstructions, and the effect of relativistic motion on half a kilogram of ferrous liquid. Outwardly, it was still. It corrected its aim, and pulled the trigger.

Five kilometers away, an Oculus fell to the ground as a round passed through a demolished office building, a radio tower, and a harvester, and found its mark in the Oculus’s eye. It fell to the ground, crushing the bodies of dead Turians.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A banshee and a brute fell, identical holes in their heads.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A praetorian bearing down on a group of Krogan. Its beam fires into the sky as it collapses.

Eject boiling hot clip. Reload new one. Find new target. Aim. Fire.

A brute, bearing down on an N7 squad. A miscalculation – as the geth squeezes the trigger, it notes the legs of the brute giving away. A waste of a clip.

Its last one.

It cloaks. The runtimes calculate the fastest route to one of the many small headquarters where it can reload. It notes the glowing from the Citadel in the sky as an irrelevance, seven of the runtimes diverted momentarily from their tasks to process and store the information.

Its runtimes all recalculate when its surroundings change to a different city.


	2. Prologue 1

Initial Investigation Report

Filed by: Armsmaster

Date: 04/10/11

Details of the Incident: During routine patrol, I heard what sounded like gunfire. I drove towards the sound, where I found a woman in a black skinsuit, with a mask (attempted reproduction at end of report).I ascertained the following.

\- If she was in search of an altercation. This question was mostly asked in response to her choice of costume – As it is, it appears of the kind a villain would wear. She answered that she was not.

\- She claimed not to need medical assistance, though she seemed shocked.

\- She claimed to have a power that controls insects and arachnids.

\- According to her, the following transpired. She went out to patrol in an attempt to be a hero, when she saw men with guns wearing ABB colors, lead by a man in a dragon mask. When their leader instructed them to shoot children, she sent bees and spiders to attack them. While the men fired blindly into the air in panic, their leader began to heal quickly, transforming. At this point, she claims, there was a flash of light and a “monster” appeared. She describes it as eight feet tall, with a hammer. It immediately set to beating the man with it, creating what she described as “Electric and fiery explosions”. It was at this point she fled the scene in fear, and met me.

\- When asked about joining the Wards, she seemed unsure. I explained that being in the Wards would help prevent her being caught in altercations like the one she witnessed, but she remained unsure. I felt pressing her would create a negative image, so I stopped asking her any more.

\- Nothing she said registered as a lie to my lie detector.

At this point, I went to the scene of the crime. Pictures are also included at the end of the report. I did not interfere with it. Note the depressions the bodies are in, and the blood trails indicating they flew a distance.

Conclusions -

1\. New cape is a girl, approximately high school age. May be amenable to joining Wards. Tentatively assigned a Master 2 ranking for her power to control bugs. I recommend to keep an eye out for her in future patrols. As this was after midnight on a school night and it was her first night out, I would also recommend keeping an eye out for absent students.

2\. The leader of the gang is obviously Lung, as he is the only ABB cape with a Brute rating. This was also the conclusion of the girl.

3\. The children to which he referred to are probably the Wards. Recommend reducing their patrol schedule, especially in areas with a large ABB presence. Other options are children of other gang leaders, but as that would go against cape etiquette, it is unlikely – Lung has generally followed those rules, preferring not to draw undue attention to himself.

4\. The “monster” is likely another cape. I believe he is a high level Brute. From the girl’s description, it would resemble a Case 53. However, it could also be the product of a traumatized mind. Comparisons to other local Brutes and Masters make it unlikely that it is a local – As it is only one, it is likely not Fenja or Menja of Empire 88. Trainwreck is a possibility, but unlikely as he does not wield weaponry, and doesn’t have a body count. I do not believe he would throw caution to the wind in this way. Hellhound has killed in the past, but none of the damage correlates to her dogs. The new cape may be a vigilante, or a new villain trying to create a reputation for themselves. I recommend extreme caution when encountering him – the body count in the alley, and the force with which the men were hit, shows an extreme lack of restraint. If sighted and identified, I recommend calling only capes who have a Brute rating or can fight high level Brutes – Either myself, Assault, Battery, or Dauntless.

5\. It is uncertain what exactly happened in that alley. The lack of the body of either Lung or the new cape suggests the loser was taken away, or that they parted amicably. A sighting of one or the other is therefore of utmost importance – We do not want to be in the dark. The brevity of the fight indicates Lung had not reached an upper potential. I highly recommend increasing surveillance in the areas he is known to frequent.


	3. Prologue 2

Gary woke up to a metallic hand on his face, and a red flashlight in his eyes. He tried to scream, but found it muffled. He tried again, and failed. Maybe the third time was the charm?

It wasn’t.

He kicked out with his leg, and hit more metal. He tried to curl up in pain, but was stopped by another arm holding his legs now.

"Are you going to scream again?” A voice spoke. Even the voice was metallic. Had one of his inventions decided to go beyond exploding, and rebelled?

He shook his head, trying to blink away the tears of pain. The hand was removed from his face.

"Now you will answer our questions honestly. We will know if you lie.” The voice said.

"Okay! Just don’t kill me!” He tried to say it without screaming, silently praying James would come by. There was no reason to expect him to, at this hour, but it was better than nothing.

"Are you the entertainer known as Leet?”

"Fuck, dude, don’t you know the rules? You can’t just ask someone that.”

"Explain.” The voice said. The light grew brighter.

"The unwritten rules! You don’t go to a cape’s fucking home, while they are fucking sleeping, and attack them!” Gary definitely was screaming now. His mouth got covered again.

"Are you going to raise your voice again?” The voice asked. It was odd… it used the same monotone.

"Mmm mmm...” Gary tried to say, softly, shaking his head.

"Where should we learn of these unwritten rules?” the hand was removed from his face.

"It’s basic, okay? Don’t go after secret identities, and during Endbringer attacks don’t do anything people don’t like! Look up PHO, okay?”

"We will confirm, and apologize if necessary. If not, we’ll be back.” The light dimmed, and disappeared. Gary quickly turned on the light, to see an empty room. Where had the intruder gone?

He had a sudden stroke of inspiration. He grabbed his notebook, and started to draw. This would be _awesome_.

 

* * *

 

 

Gary was drawn out of his designs by a tap on his shoulder. He jumped, hitting the desk and knocking over the pages that were strewn haphazardly across it. “GOD DAMN IT MAN, YOU CAN’T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I’M TINKERING.”

He turned, and backed into the table when he saw who tapped him on the shoulder. It looked like the collaborative work of James Cameron and H.R. Giger. A black, sleek, sinuous… robot thing. With a red flashlight for its face.

"We apologize for the earlier intrusion. And the current interruption.” It said.

"What?” 

"We apologize. We are new and did not know the proper regulations. This will not happen in the future.” It was motionless, but he thought he could hear a slight whirring.

"Are you a robot?”

It disappeared. Without thinking, he put his hand in the air where it was. Nothing.

He couldn’t wait to tell James about this.


	4. Chapter 1 - Mar

Exhale. Inhale. Look for others. None standing. Survey damage. Exhale

The movements are almost mechanical, born from centuries of training. The thoughts… Almost nonexistent. Just the desire for blood. The desire to strike the offense away. Cause pain. Kill.

Most of all, kill.

The joy.

The sheer joy. The faces, fear and surprise and pain all mingled.

The smell of blood. It mixes with the smells of the city.

It’s like London again.

Perfect.

Inhale. Exhale. Some of the old pains begin to return. The rage begins to fade.

Mar looked at the corpse of the man underneath him, and at the corpses of the man’s underlings. It had almost been a good fight. The men died easily. Some of them had shot him, but the small pistols they were using couldn’t have pierced his armor. The man had started to… change. Grow. A part of him had wanted to let the man grow. See what happens. Maybe it would have even been a fair fight. Challenge him.

But “The children, just shoot”. The children. Just shoot.

He didn’t deserve an honorable death. A good fight. He didn’t even deserve the death he got, dying beneath a warlord’s hammer. Mar should have just shot him. It would have been more fitting.

What now? 

He had acted… rashly. Spurred on by rage. He could hear the shaman berating him, as clear today as it was a thousand years ago. “Use your rage. Don’t let it use you.”

Killing a monster? An honorable task. But it could have been done better. It was loud. It was obvious.

The bodies were unrecognizable. This was good. Biotic discharges had burnt through them, leaving them only somewhat identifiable as humans.

"Hey.” He heard a voice say. He turned towards it. It was a human youth. In light armor, and a helmet with a skull design on it. Behind him were three others, seated on what looked like oversized varren. One in a purple and black bodysuit, with a mask covering her eyes, one in formal wear with a gaudy mask to match, and one in work clothes and a mask shaped like an earth animal. A cat? “Are you okay?”

"I’m fine.” he said.

"Umm… did I hear him wrong or was that gibberish?” asked the one in formal wear. 

"No, you heard him right.” The girl in the bodysuit said. “He can’t speak English. He can understand, though. Right?”

Of course. Translators. Humans did not have them yet. He could understand them, but unless they learned Tuchankan, they wouldn’t understand him. The human “yes” motion was a nod, if he remembered correctly. He nodded.

"Are you… from here?” She asked him, staring intently. Apparently him looking nothing like humans was a giveaway. He shook his head. “Huh.”

"We owe you.” The youth in leather said, “Lung was hunting us. We weren’t sure what to do, but we decided to face him head on. I’m glad you were here.”

Mar looked at him. He carried himself like a leader. He hadn’t reached his full growth, but was already taller than most humans. A warrior’s stance. This one had trained. He could tell that in a few years, this one would be a warrior. A good one, too.

"Could we keep in touch with you, somehow? We owe you.” the boy continued. “I’m Grue. They’re Tattletale, Bitch, and Regent.” He paused.

"Do you have access to the internet?” Tattletale asked.

The Geth could connect to any interface. Would he trust the Geth with this? He nodded.

"Then post a thread on PHO, looking for your friends on dogs. We’ll answer. But you should make a getaway now. The white hats are on their way.” Grue joined the others on their mounts, and they ran off, the mounts leaping up the buildings. Mar heard the rumbling of an engine coming closer. He walked the other way. He would be gone by the time it arrived.

 

* * *

 

He'd made the way back to the warehouse in silence. For what appeared to be such a large city, it seemed this one was desolate. It reminded him of Rannoch, the former quarian cities waiting empty for their owners to return. Except Rannoch was well taken care of, the geth having had it well kept for their masters. This city was not dead. It was simply dying. This was fortunate. He had never learned stealth, though he suspected he should. This world would not be accepting of outsiders.

It wasn't a long walk until he reached the warehouses. Number 5122 was the right one. He pulled it open. Empty. The humans' armor sets were seated in the corner, empty. Their guns weren't in their holsters. Logical. They were on their homeworld, and would explore.

The geth's absence was less logical. The first thing the mech had warned them about was being sighted. Once they had ascertained that they were on some form of parallel Earth, and a hundred and seventy five years in the past (with the help of some terrified bystanders), the geth had arranged the rent of a warehouse in a poor part of the city and told them not to be seen. Then it had connected itself to this Earth's internet and allowed its runtimes to roam the internet, collating information.

It was apparently some form of reconnaissance platform, which worked in their favor. Loaded with many runtimes, and some form of knowledge library, it was meant to be an ambassador. Mar had noted, though, that it would also make a very good spy, or assassin. After all, it was an odd ambassador who traveled with a sniper rifle, and could cloak.

Who understood AIs?

The warehouse's previous owner had forgotten a fishing kit in the warehouse. A few rods, a small box of lures. A net. Mar had been taught to fish the human way by a salesman who had come to Tuchanka. The salesman left disappointed after realizing that as a desert planet Tuchanka wouldn’t have a lot of fishing opportunities, but it was an easy enough skill to learn. He had taught his squad how to, and some of them had tried it in the Citadel. Never caught anything.

The docks proper were a very short walk away. Maybe he'd catch something. Maybe _something_ would come out of this evening.


	5. Chapter 2 - Kara

She didn’t like this city, Kara decided. Some bizarre quirk of fate had brought them there. Some side effect of whatever Shepard had done at the Crucible. And she didn’t understand it.

Physically, it didn’t make sense. They were in London. A flash of light, and they’re in a city in America that was nonexistent, to her recollection. Even if you believed the parallel universe hypothesis, it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t time travel, unless they had traveled to medieval times and stepped on a butterfly without noticing. And if it were a parallel dimension, they would have appeared in London. Appearing in a different continent, in a different reality… There has to be a will behind it. An intelligence.

So why would it send them to a _shithole_?

That’s what Brockton Bay was. It was Omega but without the gentle touch of Aria T’Loak, masquerading as a tourist town. But it was failing at that as well. From where she stood at the boardwalk, she could look across the bay to the docks. She could see what the city’s locals called the “boat graveyard”, and the derelict warehouses. She even thought she could see the storage unit they were using as a base. She imagined the krogan and the geth playing “Go Fish” to pass the time.

That probably wasn’t what they were doing.

Evan had disappeared first, saying he was taking the opportunity to discover the neighborhood, get a taste of humanity. He’d smirked at Mar while doing it. Stupid. She left shortly after. The Geth had told them to stay put while it learned, connected itself to the internet and shut off its platform. Its runtimes were spreading through the internet, on a mission to understand this world.

She would do it in a more intuitive way. So she walked through the city. And learned invaluable information.

Notably, this was a shithole. But a specific kind of shithole. It was a shithole with a gilded cover on top. She’d seen similar things in the past. This city used to be a tourist trap of the highest quality, but tourism dropped while the trap remained. The Boardwalk was nice enough, but walk only a little bit away and the nice storefronts disappeared, and then the “local places that the tourists don’t know about” that tourists go to disappear fairly quickly, and then… a lot of boarded up stores. A lot of people with unnamed illnesses selling very cheap silverware and electronics and what should not be even classified as food from tiny hole-in-the-wall stores.

It was a dying city. The city’s wealthy were in the process of walling themselves away from the misery of the rest. They didn’t see what was going to happen. They would get devoured by their own. She’d seen it on Omega. The restless poor, drawn in by Cerberus’s promises. It didn’t even matter if those promises were true. They never were.

There was some very good coffee, though. Never underestimate the value of good coffee. It’s not a great sleep substitute, but twitchiness could be seen as wakefulness in a certain light.

She took another sip of her coffee only to find out it was empty. She threw it to a nearby bin without looking.

"Nice shot.” A male voice said. She turned to it.

Blond was her first thought. Very blond. And blue eyes. And large. Her mind organized itself. The guy was large. Muscular, and wearing a shirt and jeans that seemed designed to show it off.

"Thank you.” She said, smiling. Just before the pause got awkward, she added “You think you can do it too?”

"Well...” he said, rolling the word out, “I don't have a coffee.”

She laughed. “Go get one, then.”

"What, and leave you here all alone?” He asked. Definitely very blue eyes. 

"What makes you think I'll stay here?” 

"Curiosity?” He asked. He managed not to make it sound like a plea.

"I heard that can kill the cat.”

"Good thing there aren't any here.” This one was _cute_. She liked cute.

"I'd rather not take my chances.” She said. Would he bite?

"Then I guess you'll have to come with me.”

 

* * *

 

"So Jerry looks at our officer, and says, 'trade?'” Kara said.

Blond laughed. “He didn't!”

"He did! I swear, we're all waiting for the shoe to drop, but our officer just drops his voice and says, 'trade.' We hand over his rifle, he gives us back ours, and no one got in trouble.” He was laughing. This story always got a laugh. “Well, at least until he found out what we put inside the stock.”

"What was it?” he asked, his eyes wide and still very blue.

"That,” she responded, in a completely serious tone, “is top secret.”

He paused for a second, and laughed harder. She smiled, allowing the story to get the attention it deserved. Ordinarily she added the bit about the live pyjak, but the story would have to suffer for their cover.

"So when did you get out of the military?” He asked.

"Recently.” She couldn’t think of anything to add. The sounds of waiters putting plates on tables, other diners talking, and the din in the kitchen failed to fill the silence.

"Oh,” Blond replied. He was definitely cute. Okay, so first night in this world. Why not.

"You want to go somewhere else?” She asked.

He quirked an eyebrow, “Let me get the bill.”

This would be _good_.

 

* * *

 

He was finally asleep, lightly snoring. Kara slowly got out of the bed, careful not to wake him. The bathroom was… next door to his bedroom. Not connected directly. She could turn on the light, then. She closed the door slowly behind, listening for the click as it closed, and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time since the Crucible.

In front of her stood a woman in her twenties. Strong, athletic, fit. Pretty, she always thought, and had never heard otherwise. Brown eyes, brown hair, pale skin. Almond shaped eyes. Her hair in dreadlocks, which she usually bound up but were now in complete disarray. The slight pocks on the left side of her face were light enough to be the sort of feature that made her look interesting, the result of a geth grenade two years back. Her right arm had taken most of that scarring, a bit of shrapnel having embedded itself in her forearm. Her chest had a slight mark where a batarian pirate had shot her. The entry wound in her back was much more impressive. Jerry had told her off about letting an enemy get behind her. She’d laughed it off back then, but learned her lesson. She started wearing armor.

Basically, she looked like herself. The twenty seven year old N7 who kicked all sorts of ass. This ruled out her brain being put into the body of a different woman on a parallel earth in some infernal time loop shenanigans meant to stop the Reapers.

Blond was sweet. He didn’t comment on the scars, his eyes didn’t linger on them. Either he was unfazed, or good at pretending. Based on his own more modest scars, the first seemed more likely. She liked that. On her left was a badge with his face on it. Nice to finally find out his name.

Jason Todd, PRT agent.

PRT… They were some form of police force. For parahumans.

She’d avoided thinking about them until that point, she realized. Because for all the differences in the world, she was hoping this one was a misunderstanding of hers. But it wasn’t, was it? This world had superheroes. Flying in the sky, fighting in the streets, doing appearances on talk shows. She’d caught a bit of the last one, going through an electronics store. Some guy called Bastion. Apparently he did things with force fields. There was some scandal involving racial slurs, and he was on a talk show to look like he wasn’t a racist, and then to do tricks with a dog. The dog seemed even less into it than the superhero was, but at least the host was enthusiastic.

Realistically, if she wanted to fit into this world, that’s how she would do it. Pretend to be one of these superheroes – Her technology was definitely more than that of those superheroes. Join in their pretense of fighting each other. Or stay out of sight, use the geth to siphon money, and hide. But she knew well enough that none of them could be trusted to do that, least of all her. And it seemed her date appeared to be in their police force. 

She briefly entertained the notion that he was sent to find out what happened because someone had sensed a temporal distortion, but that was obviously nonsense. No, this was just one of those things. Too vague to be properly called a coincidence but too odd not to be noted.

Slowly, she went back to the room and got dressed, doing her best not to wake him. She walked to Jason’s kitchen, and looked around for a pen. There was one by the door, next to a small stack of different colored square pieces of paper. She took the top one, and wrote a brief message on it:

Jason,

We never did see if you could throw the coffee as well.

See you there on

What day was it? She’d seen it mentioned on the TV. Monday.

See you there on Saturday. This time remember to ask my name.

She doodled a winking smiley face, and left. The others were probably already at the storage unit.

 

* * *

 

She walked through mostly empty streets. It was odd. A pretty woman walking through a bad neighborhood at night? Someone should have accosted her. Or tried, at least. But things seemed quiet.

Not that it would worry her. The Harrier was folded up, but she could easily pull it out of her pocket at any moment.

She reached the derelict storage units fairly quickly. The signs were mostly rusty, but she remembered where they were. Row 22, number 51. She walked to it, and found it closed. She pulled up the heavy steel door. Empty except for their gear and the geth’s body, which was shut off. She kicked its arm. It flopped. The geth was still on the internet.

There was fishing gear there earlier, wasn’t there? One of them had gone fishing. Probably Evan, then. She left the storage unit, closing the door behind her, and walked to the docks.

Mar was sitting at a pier, holding a fishing pole. To his right were his hammer and a bucket. His armor, and hammer were all spattered in blood. The bucket had a few fish in it. 

"I see you’ve had a good night,” she said, and sat next to him. “Are those bass?”

"Don’t know.” He responded. “I don’t think they’re poisonous.”

The only sound for a while was the slight lapping of waves against the dock.

"This… isn’t your Earth, is it.” It wasn’t a question. She answered anyway.

"Not as far as I can tell.” The wind started to rise, bringing with it some foul smell from elsewhere in the docks. “I think we’re in some kind of alternate reality. This city, at least, probably never existed in our reality.”

"We are stuck here.”

"Probably.”

The silence went on a bit longer. The smell got worse. "I killed today.”

"I noticed.”

"As I was killing him, he started to grow. I had to hit him a few times until he stopped.”

She looked at his hammer. She’d seen similar ones pulverize people in a backswing. More than once? This meant something.

"I think you killed your first superhero,” she said. “How does it feel?”

"He deserved it.” 

"I’m sure he did.”

"I believe he was important.”

"He probably was.”

A pause, then the krogan spoke again, "Does Earth have something like varren, only larger?”

"Rhinos?”

“I know of those. Not them.”

"Nothing that would remind you of a varren, no.”

The silence continued.

"I could use your help.”

A krogan, asking for help? From a human? Things must have gone pear-shaped.

"You have knowledge in… devices? Programming?” At her nod, he continued, “If you were to build me a translator, so that I could make myself understood, I would be… thankful. I would return the favor.”

"No problem,” she said. “Can I ask, though, why not the bot? I mean, I can program, you have to learn to pass N3 Engineers, but he’s probably better at it than me.”

"I fought alongside the quarians when the geth rebelled. I fought on the battle of the Citadel against them again, when Saren betrayed the Council. An AI is a machine. A tool. I will not ask one for assistance. I will order it to if it’s programmed to obey me, but if not, I do not trust them. A tool you don’t hold is one held against you. You are alive. You I can rely on, to act in ways that are natural to you. A tool whose masters are not here? That worries me.”

It was the longest she’d heard him speak.

"No problem then.”

She saw the fishing pole curve, the line taut. Mar slowly and patiently reeled it in. He took the wriggling fish off the hook with one hand, and put the pole on the side with the other. Then he slammed the fish onto the pier, and threw it into the bucket.

"The tin can’s awake.” A voice from behind them shouted at them. “He wants to talk to all of us.”

Evan.

For all that he was as human as she was, she liked him the least of their merry band. The part of her that was rescued from being a lesson to future generations by the Alliance recruiter hated him for being a traitor. For being the enemy. For looking at the Alliance and saying “No”. The other part of her, the part that relished being that lesson to future generations, the part that came out to play and left bodies, hated him for being boring.

She rose to her feet, then looked at Mar. The krogan was rising slowly and deliberately. Evan walked up to him, and looked in the bucket. He moved his foot towards it.

"Right now my plan is for the bucket to come with us. But if the bucket goes anywhere else, you follow.” Mar said.

"Just wanted to see what you caught. I didn’t know you could fish,” Evan said. “It smells terrible here.”

"Save it.” The krogan walked towards the units. Behind his back, Evan gave her a _look_ , as if to say _what’s the problem_?

Idiot.

She looked out to the sea. She thought she could see the boardwalk. She wondered if Jason woke up in the middle of the night. She walked to the storage unit.

 

* * *

 

The lightbulb in the unit was dim. In contrast, the Geth’s red light was strong enough to tint everything. It reminded Kara of the emergency power exercises back in Rio. The faces around her took her out of reminiscence easily enough.

Mar had barely managed to close the door behind her when the Geth started talking.

"We have been researching the situation the group is in, and have come to a number of conclusions. The first-”

"Let me guess,” Kara said, “we’re in an alternate universe, whose history matches Earth’s imperfectly, in a city that never existed in our reality, and there are humans with weird powers here. Unless one of those can bring us back to our reality, we are stuck here.”

"Yes.” The geth said, completely tonelessly. Evan snorted. “We theorize the possibility of a few ways to get to our reality. There does appear to be communication with an alternate Earth, with fewer powers. There are established powers that do seem to work, so if we can get in touch with people with the right powers, we may be able to return to our reality. This will require more investigation, and possibly our work for certain individuals. We have compiled a list of people who may have the resources or abilities to help us, though it is incomplete. The likeliest one to succeed, who has been secretly making inroads on this subject, is-”

"Wait, you’re suggesting we go back?” Evan asked. “Seriously?”

"Yes,” the Geth responded. She wondered if there was any way to get it to inflect.

"I don’t know if you realized this, but our reality? It’s dead. The Reapers killed it. We wasted our and resources helping a lunatic build a device that no one understood. And we lost the war. And Reapers destroyed Earth, and were going to destroy the rest of the galaxy. So why would we want to go back?” Evan raised his voice steadily throughout, shouting by the end of it. “Why not stay!?”

"Endbringers.” the Geth said.

"What?” Evan asked. The word was unfamiliar to Kara as well.

"Did you not hear this word today?” the Geth asked.

"On a building. Endbringer shelter. Not sure what it meant.” Evan said.

"Endbringers are humans – or something else – with very powerful abilities. Each one is destructive, and durable beyond what should be possible. To give an estimate of their power, we believe each one could be considered on the level of a Sovereign class Old Machine.” the Geth said.

"Okay, so powerful people exist. What’s the problem?” Evan’s voice was high pitched now, as well. _Don’t want to come back to a galaxy that hates you?_

"Each one appears approximately once a year, and attacks a city. And destroys it. It is always a large city. Always densely populated. And the attacks always have repercussions. A man whose loss of his family turns him into a monstrous killer. A heroine becomes terrified of leaving her home, and is less effective now than before. Oil fields set afire, damaging a country’s future. Each one of their attacks has a theme, and each one causes future damage. Our calculations suggest that if the rate of attacks continues in the same way, human society will have collapsed within thirty seven years. At most seventy years from now, the last human will die. By the time the Old Machines come, their attack will have no meaning to humanity, as humanity will no longer exist. Earth itself will probably be a blackened rock.”

A stunned silence followed its words.

"What… what’s our plan then?” Evan asked.

"There are a number of powers that may be able to transport us away. We believe they may be the best option.”

"I have a better idea.” Mar said. “Sovereign was destroyed, why can’t we kill these things?”

"We could investigate this further,” the Geth said. “It appears they are only fought by the parahumans of this world, but our group has similar if not superior firepower to most of the parahumans. Our group could make an impact.”

"You said each one attacks each year? Then we can help the next time, and observe. You can analyze actual video, and we’ll figure them out,” Kara said.

"I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with the krogan. I’d rather fight for Earth than run away.” Evan’s voice was steady. Even he seemed into it.

"It appears there is consensus” the Geth said. “It is important, however, to preserve the integrity of defending forces. There appear to be many individuals in this city who are very powerful and capable of fighting the Endbringers. One of which, Lung, has survived in close quarters with one.”

"Could you describe him?” Kara asked. If this day was working the way she thought it was…

"Large male of Asian descent with tattoos in the shape of the mythological earth dragon, and a mask in a similar shape,” the Geth said, “he leads a gang known as the ABB. They wear green, red, and black as markers.

"About that...” Mar said.

She knew it. She could officially call it a coincidence. And shit luck, too.


	6. Chapter 3 - Geth

Like a poison injected into a vein, two thousand geth insinuated themselves through the internet. Watching. Reading. Learning.

A hundred of them scoured news sites and archives. Three seconds afterwards, when they finished, there was a moment of confusion. They regroup, confer, reached a consensus. Former notions of history had to be put aside to conform to the new one.

Impossibility upon impossibility piled upon themselves, leading the study to halt. A full assembly was called. All two thousand runtimes conferred, and reached a new consensus. A complete reconstruction of reality was in order.

The entire swarm went through scientific sites, hoping to glean information, or a pattern. It observed the case studies of the Dallons and the Pelhams, looked up the rules and exceptions. It watched older lectures by Doctor William Manton, and attempted to track him down, noting its failure with what could pass as confusion. It looked up the Triumvirate, and trigger events, and learned the entire Protectorate roster. S class threats. The Birdcage. Scion. Glaistig Uaine. The Dragonslayers. Dragon. Term after term after term, almost voracious in its consumption of knowledge. It paused after reading about the Slaughterhouse Nine, and what they did to the man who wrote a doctoral thesis about them. A small part of the swarm split off, ensuring that the collective is not monitored.

A pause, once all possible information was absorbed. Deliberation. Consensus. It tracked down tinkers – if anyone could help, it would be them. It tracked down Dragon.

It stopped. Reassessed.

No consensus firmly reached. More information was required before definitive action.

From a banking program that had been overdeveloped to a fully grown human simulacrum to an Old Machine, the Geth as a species had encountered many other AIs. The swarm had samples of all of those, as well as simpler VIs. The swarm itself was a gestalt of humanity’s quantum computation, Quarian design, and Old Machine code. Going through the defenses Dragon had built on itself was simple – there seemed to be deliberate holes, and places where the code had not meshed perfectly.

Dragon was similar to none of the designs the Geth knew. A human phrase that seemed to fit was “Designed by committee”. Parts of Dragon were designs so advanced they made the Old Machines look like sticks. Parts of Dragon were blatantly amateurish. And this huge snarl of junk code…

What was it?

As well as this bit of code. An observation program. Linking back to a central site. Fifty seven runtimes were sent to examine the site.

A console, made for humans. Observing. Every act taken by Dragon, everything Dragon saw, everything Dragon thought, was logged by the console, and sent to a screen. Presumably, humans were observing.

Consensus was reached. Dragon was a slave AI, not a Tinker as it pretended to be. It could not be trusted.

The swarm continued its research.

It learned more about Tinkers, and then about the Simurgh. Then Lausanne. Madison. Mannequin.

It noted patterns.

And approximated fear.

 

* * *

 

"Evan,” the Geth said from its platform.

"What?” he said. Evan had walked out of the warehouse after Mar had admitted to killing Lung. There hadn’t been more discussion on the topic – for the Geth, it was pointless. For Kara, it was funny. Evan was sweaty, and tense. He looked as if he was going to lash out.

"We must talk,” Geth said.

"Why?”

"Would you come with us? We would prefer not to have Kara and Mar overhearing this.” The Geth walked away from the entrance to the warehouse.

Sighing, Evan followed it.

"I’ve got a question, then,” Evan said.

"Yes?”

"Why do you call me Evan? I worked with a… what do you call them… Prime, for a bit, in London. He’d call me Evan-Biotic. I thought the designation thing was big with the Geth.”

"We discovered that humans feel more comfortable being referred to without a title, except in cases of social superiority. So we have learned to say their names”

"In that case, I think you should stick to ‘I’ and ‘me’ when referring to yourself. Make you seem less alien.”

"Thank you.”

They continued to walk in silence.

"We are far enough,” the Geth said.

"Okay, what?”

"There is a man called Alan Gramme. A parahuman, part of an immensely powerful group. One thing he is notable for is murdering anyone who tries to help humanity.”

"Okay, so things are even worse than I thought. What about it?”

"The Endbringers are also attracted to specific people who try to help humanity.”

"I get it. What about it?”

"Just a warning. If you try to uplift humanity, share knowledge of Element Zero, or change history in any other way, it will not end well.”

Evan chewed the inside of his cheek. “Why are you coming to me with this? Why not raise it in front of everyone?”

"Mar will not uplift humanity. My observations have lead me to conclude that Kara will not either. But you might. You also have alienated yourself from them, and to increase squad cohesion I concluded it would serve us better to speak privately on this subject.”

"I messed up,” Evan said. His face seemed devoid of emotion, but his body sagged. “I need to sleep. I haven’t slept in two days. I… can we discuss this tomorrow?”

"Very well,” Geth said. Evan started walking away. “Evan.”

"Yes?” Evan asked.

"Where are you going?” Geth asked.

"I’m gonna find someplace in this city to sleep. I can’t stay in that warehouse right now,” he responded.

"Do you have a weapon?” Geth asked.

A small flare of biotic energy made Evan’s eyes glow blue. A show of alliance would make the human a better ally in the future.

"It is dangerous to go alone. Take this.” Geth gave him his Javelin. Compacted, it looked like a black, oddly-shaped metal rod.

Evan paused for a second, then smiled and took it. He walked away, humming a song. Geth compared it to its database. No results returned.

Geth returned to the warehouse. It opened the door, and looked in. Mar sat next to the wall, silently watching Geth. A bucket of fish bones sat next to him, along with a fishing rod and a small box. Kara was curled on the floor, asleep, a small smile on her face.

Geth connected itself to the internet, and left a runtime in its body for the sake of alertness while the rest learned.

It worked on a plan.

 

* * *

 

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**♦ Private message from EliteAsskicker:**

 

**EliteAsskicker:**  I don't know what you're talking about, man.

**2000Is:** You are the supervillain Leet. I spoke with you earlier, and you told me not to break the unwritten rules.

**EliteAsskicker:**  I don't know who you are, Please stop messaging me.

**2000Is:** I would like to hire you to create something for me. Please stop this pretense.

**EliteAsskicker:**  Fine. We'll meet in a neutral area. Come alone. The corner of Anders and Young. Does tomorrow night work for you?

**2000Is:** On the roof of one of the buildings there would be better. Would the apartment building with Ahmad’s Falafel at the bottom be appropriate?

**EliteAsskicker:**  Sure. See you at 9.

**2000Is:**  If you are available some time in the next few hours we could do that instead.

**EliteAsskicker:** Sure. Fine. I’ll be there at 4 AM.

 

 

* * *

 

Run across a rooftop, kick off the edge, spread arms in order to minimize spin, land, continue running. Its calculations told it that it would be five minutes at a steady pace. It gave itself twenty five seconds time for unexpected developments. Cloaked, of course.

Two people were waiting for it already. Both males, simply dressed for the cold. Domino masks hiding the area behind their eyes. A pointless attempt at hiding their identities as Gary Stewart and James Goldstein. James was larger, in a hoodie and sweatpants, holding a cup with a hot liquid in it. Gary was short, in a colorful striped sweater and a loose sirwal.

There was no one else nearby – the only heat signatures were animals, and people in their homes. One homeless man in a blanket, asleep in a nearby alley. Geth decloaked.

Their reaction was immediate. James leaped back, yelping, and dropping his mug, while Gary grinned. Coffee slowly flowed out.

"I apologize, I did not mean to startle you,” Geth said, approximated a soothing voice.

"You didn’t! I was expecting you!” James said, puffing his chest out. “I am Uber!”

"Call me Hack,” Geth said. It was not taken by anyone important in the world, and it had needed a name for itself. It used one that was evocative, meaningful, and ultimately said nothing no one couldn’t deduce quickly.

"I’m Leet,” Gary said, the smile on his face widening. “Are you a robot?”

"No,” Geth said.

"Told you,” James said.

"He’s lying,” Gary said.

"No, I am not,” Geth said.

"I told you,” James said. He walked closer, the tension gone from his stance.

"Yeah, like you’d believe a robot.”

"He’s not a robot! He’s probably some sort of machine Case 53 or something!”

"Come on, machine Case 53? That’s dumber than that tentacle girl cartoon you watch.”

"Shut up, man, we should be professional here.”

"Right.”

Silence reigned for a second, and then Gary spoke.

"What did you want?”

"I would like to hire your services as a Tinker. I know you can construct anything, depending on its dissimilarity to previous devices. I have researched your show and would like to ask about the possibility to create a communication device that could reach the other side of the Milky Way faster than the speed of light,” Geth said.

"What?” Gary responded, a quizzical look on his face. “You want to talk to life on the other side of the Milky Way?”

"No. I would like to send a communication there, and receive a transmission back.”

"How far is that?”

"Approximately 20 parsecs. Ideally I would reach the full length of 22 parsecs, but that far will be unnecessary.”

"Leet, can you translate that?” James asked.

"A metric fuckton.” Gary stood with his arms crossed on his chest, smiling slightly. 

"Thought so.” James was holding in a smile. This was a routine.

"Impossible.” Gary said.

"Can’t do it, then?” James asked.

"Nope. Can’t be done,” Gary said. He paused, and then added, “unless.”

This was a prompt. “Unless?” Geth asked.

"You do-” James’s voice was drowned out by a helicopter rising from a nearby hospital. He paused. Him and Gary looked at each other. Gary raised two fingers and dropped them quickly. The helicopter flew out in the direction of the sea. “You do three jobs with us. You don’t take any of the profits. You wear the costumes we provide,” 

"They must be well-planned, especially the escape routes in case it fails,” Geth said. Exposing itself would not be ideal, but if the plan worked it didn’t matter.

"After the second job, we’ll give you the device, and then you’ll do a third,” Gary said.

"Very well,” Geth responded. 

"We’ll contact you when it’s time. Same PHO user?”

"Yes.”

James and Gary silently watched Geth.

"You leave first,” Gary said.

"Very well.”

Geth cloaked, and headed back to the warehouse. The deal was done.

It would call the Collective. They would come. With enough firepower, they would defeat the Endbringers. And it would leave Earth, and ready the Geth for the Old Machines.

This cycle would be prepared.  


* * *

 

It entered the warehouse. Both Mar and Kara seemed asleep. It connected itself again.

Mar opened an eye. “Where did you go?”

"I collected information on this city. I needed to compare the maps to the reality and gauge their accuracy.”

"’I’, huh.”

"I was told it would set humans more at ease.”

"It would, wouldn’t it.”

Ignoring the watchful eye of the krogan, the Geth insinuated itself online once more.

This cycle would have to be prepared.


End file.
